The Darkest Nightmare
by ThinkChimerical
Summary: AU: Halloween Town, 1927. It is the eighth year of the Blood Prohibition. Above ground, Halloween Town is bright and flourishing. But someone's got to get those citizens their blood. Down below, blood rules, chaos reigns, and Oogie Boogie is king. Only Detectives Sally Finklestein and Hal Owens can stop him, that is, if they can manage to stay alive.
1. Arsenic in the Sugar Bowl

**Author's Note: Greetings, and welcome to the Alternate Universe of The Darkest Nightmare. This tale of passion, danger, and murder most foul is based upon the film The Nightmare Before Christmas. Several events in this story will correlate to those from the movie, and even some historical facts from our world will worm their way in. Let the reader beware! Whosoever points these out will get *bonus points*. Detective Hal Owens is an alternate version of my OC, Hal Samhain. He is not intended to be a love interest for Sally. That position will by filled by Mr. Skellington, whenever he happens to show up. *Advisory* I do not own The Nightmare Before Christmas, nor will I ever. That said, read, review, and enjoy you wanderers of the Internet! Thank your for your time.**

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The Darkest Nightmare

Chapter One: Arsenic in the Sugar Bowl

"You clumsy girl!" shrieked old Dr. Finklestein from his motorized wheelchair. His daughter, Sally, had just run into him, making him drop the jar of arsenic he was carrying, as well as spilling the bowl of sugar she had been bringing to breakfast table for her coffee. What had resulted was a white, powdery mess all over the kitchen floor. It was impossible to tell what was the poison and what was the sweetener. Sally sighed. It would all have to be thrown out.

She walked silently over to the pantry, opened it, and pulled out a dustpan. "I'm sorry Father," she intoned dully, all the while looking at her wristwatch. "I'll pick up this mess." _Damn it._ She was going to be late for work,_ again_, and this time she had a meeting with Captain Gorgonne. It didn't look good for a Lieutenant to show up late for work twice in a week. She only hoped that her partner, Hal Owens, would cover her while she cleaned up.

"Don't you dare throw that out, Sally!" Screeched her father. "That is good money you're wasting!" Sally took a deep breath and satisfied herself with glaring at her father and imagining that his mouth was sewn shut. She deliberately bent down, scraped the white powder into two equal piles. Then she scooped one pile into the jar labeled "Arsenic", and the other into the sugar bowl. She stood up, quietly handed her father the arsenic jar, and slammed the sugar bowl on the table. Without another look at her father, she gathered up her coat and briefcase and said:

"I'll get more sugar on the way home," as a way of goodbye. She marched out of her and her father's dark little residence, straightening her back against the sound of her father's infuriated screaming.

When she was far enough away, she let out a little laugh. Sally was a type of person who smiled when she was sad, and laughed when she should be in tears. This odd little habit made for some very awkward encounters whenever her superiors at the police station scolded her. She clutched her worn leather briefcase against herself tightly, head bowed against the grim grayness of her neighborhood and the sharp bite of autumn wind.

She walked eight blocks from her home to the police station, hardly noticing how, as she went further north, the houses began to spread apart, making the world seem lighter and cleaner. By the time she got to the police station, the buildings, instead of being dirty and ramshackle, stood tall, proud, and pristine. She did not smell the wet scent of rotting leaves, or feel the crispness of the air. The jabbering of the crows perched on the telephone poles fell on deaf ears, and the brilliant sunrise fell on blind eyes. Sally's life was unpleasant and miserable. It did not appear as though it was about to change any time soon.

She had been born in the distant October Country, where she had lived with her father and mother until the age of six, when Mad Prince Maximillian unleashed a deadly virus in order to destroy "the enemies of the state". He had ended up with a mutagenic horror that killed four thousand. Sally's mother had died in the "Green Plague", and she and her father had escaped to the Lowlands, and eventually to that great metropolis, Halloween Town. Here, a horribly scarred girl was not considered odd, rather "in mode". It was also here that an intelligent doctor could not get a job, due to his limited ability to speak English. He, although not built for strenuous labor, worked in the Great Steel Factory for eleven years, until a horrible accident mangled his legs. With every passing year, the Doctor became more and more bitter, and very disillusioned with life in general.

Sally, on the other hand, had succeeded in ways her father never could. She had been put right to work in the Pentacle Shirtwaist Factory, from the age of seven. Her small deft hands replaced bobbins in the machines, until she was finally old enough to work at the sewing machines. But Sally had not been born for a life of labor. Somehow or other, when she was seventeen, she had gotten hired by the Halloween Town Police Department, first as a filing clerk, and then working her way up the ranks to becoming a fully fledged detective.

Her job's responsibilities were immense and full of complexities that she had never dreamed of as a girl. When she was a child, she had foolishly thought that the police's only job was to beat poor people up. No, now she knew after ten years in the force that there were higher-ups to impress, tests to take, law-suits to avoid, and Captains to listen to. _Which was something she had to do right no_w, she reminded herself, as she ran up the long spindly stairs to the Captain's office, skirts swishing about her ankles.

Sally was out of breath by the time she reached Captain Gorgonne's office. She inhaled deeply, smoothed out the front of her jacket, and tucked a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear. She hesitantly opened the door, and winced when she saw the glare that Hal, her partner was giving her. He sat in front of the Captain's desk, arms crossed over his broad chest. Lateness did not reflect well on them.

"Ah," said Captain Gorgonne coolly, "Lieutenant Finklestein. How nice of you to join us. Take a seat," she said, gesturing at a worn looking chair with a perfectly manicured claw. Sally flushed deeply, and sat down, making the chair squeak. Gorgonne was an imposing woman, from the top of her snake covered head to the bottom of her talon tipped, scaly feet. "Despite contrary evidence, Lieutenant, the records have shown that your partnership with Owens here has proved most fruitful. You two possibly have the most successful busts in the last half century."

Hal and Sally looked questioningly at each other. "Thank you Captain," Hal said uncertainly. "It has been an honor and a privilege to work with Lieutenant Finklestein." The third eye in the middle of his head winked at Sally, letting her know that he wasn't mad at her. She flushed again, pleased that her partner had recognized her. Hal was a good partner, and an even better friend. Sally trusted him completely, and hearing his praise had made her happy beyond measure.

"I'm sure," said Captain Gorgonne smoothly. "That is why the board has made a decision that will affect both of your lives." Here she paused, and looked mournfully at the two of them. "You don't have to take this job if you don't want to, but it _is_ highly recommended." Sally stared nervously at the Captain. What exactly was she getting at? Gorgonne's tone was cold, and a bit melancholy. She almost sounded like a priest saying last rites, or perhaps an executioner. "We have decided," she continued, "That you will be the ones who take down the Oogie Boogie Man." Sally felt a horrible swooping feeling in the pit of her stomach that she recognized as fear. _Yes,_ she thought bitterly, _Gorgonne _did _sound like an executioner. _By giving them this mission, she was sending them to their deaths.


	2. On the Level

***Author's Notes* Hello, and welcome to the second portion of the Darkest Nightmare. Today's episode features Detective Owens being a complete and utter _jerk_. *Advisory* I do not own, and never will own The Nightmare Before Christmas. That honor goes to the Walt Disney Corporation. ALL HAIL THE WALT DISNEY** **CORPORATION. A big thank you for all of the reviews that I received from Chapter One. They were very much appreciated. Like the story? Review it! Hate the story? Review it! Have a burning question? Review it! That said, please enjoy. Or don't! No one's forcing you. (Except, perhaps for the Sheriff's secret police.) Thank you. This has been a public service announcement.**

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The Darkest Nightmare

Chapter Two: On the Level

"We have to think of a plan," Sally murmured as they walked out of Gorgonne's office. "We can't just go in there blind, Hal." He grunted, but didn't say anything. As Gorgonne had explained the mission to them, he had slumped lower and lower into his chair, looking angrier and angrier as the minutes passed. Sally, on the other hand, had set her facial features into a smooth, attentive mask. She had kept her face that way until they reached the relative privacy of their office, where she allowed herself to frown deeply as she looked through Oogie Boogie's thick case file. It was filled with the numerous failures of their predecessors. She winced slightly as she read the fates that had befallen them. After a while, she glanced up at Hal, who so far had done nothing but lean against the beige-colored wall looking petulant. "Any ideas?" she asked sarcastically.

Hal closed all of his eyes briefly, and then said: "It doesn't matter. We're dead either way. We might as well go in there armed with peashooters and spitballs for all the backup Gorgonne's giving us."

Sally rolled her eyes. She hated it whenever Hal was in a cynical mood. It depressed her, and usually signaled a forthcoming violent outburst. "Don't be so glum, Hal. This is a huge… for lack of a better term, _honor_. She picked us because she knows we're a good team."

Hal snorted. "That and we're not on the take, "he said sarcastically. "Practically all of the guys walking the beat work for the Boogie Man, the vamps, or the witches, depending on who's offering the most cash."

Sally glared at him. How could he think so poorly of them? How could he even think that their only good quality was that they were on the level? It angered her, and for good reason. "So what, you don't think we make a good team?" she asked, irritation creeping into her voice. "You think that the past five years have meant nothing?" Hal slumped against the wall, looking somewhat defeated.

"I never said that, Sally," he muttered wearily. "I'm just pointing out the obvious. This is the case that will either make us or break us, you know. That's a lot of pressure, I guess. Makes you see things more _clearly_."

Sally took a deep breath and took a good long look at her partner. He appeared to be much more harried than usual; his dark grey suit was rumpled, and his spiky white hair looked like it had become a nest for small animals. He had bags under his normally bright golden eyes, all three of them. She grimaced. He looked like he had been through the wringer. She was fairly certain that she didn't look much better.

"I know," she said finally, relenting. "But still, we have to be prepared if we don't want to get shot." She pulled a small bundle of papers out of the file folder. "I was thinking about going undercover. _Deep _undercover."

"As opposed to regular undercover?" Hal quipped, as he walked over to get a better look at the file. "Yeah," he said, nodding, "That might work. Aside from the fact that every dick that went that route has gotten bumped off, or sold to the blood pimps."

Sally pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance. A headache had decided to form itself _right _behind her eyeballs. It was times like these that she sometimes regretted being paired with the most contrary cop in Halloween Town. "So you suggest we go in there with our guns blazing?" she asked. She shook her head, and sighed. "Statistically, the cops who have gotten the farthest have gone under cover. We just have to be…_better_, I guess."

Hal stared at her, scorn twisting his features. "Gee, I never thought of that!" he said, slapping the palm of his hand to his forehead. "Well, there we go; we just have to _be better_, and all of our problems are solved!" His voice got louder as he stalked past her, slamming the filing cabinets closed as he went. "Might as well ask the chief for our medals now, right? That is, if we don't _die_ first!" Ire colored his face a dark red, and he was breathing heavily. It was almost painful to look at him. "You see, that's the difference between you and me, Sal," he snarled angrily. "I have priorities. I have a daughter to think about. I give a damn…I _have_ to give a damn whether or not I return home in one piece, whether or not I come back alive. I..I..at least I have a life!" he yelled furiously.

Tears pricked behind her eyes, but Sally looked at him, and said nothing. She would not let him see how much he had hurt her. There were a million of insults she could've screamed at him, thousands of ways she knew how to injure him, but it wasn't worth it. _At least _her_ wife hadn't left her with a kid that probably wasn't hers,_ she thought bitterly._ At least _she _didn't have a chronic addiction to magic. So what if she didn't have a life? At least it was better than Hal's. _But even as she thought it, she knew she didn't mean it. Hal was her friend, her partner. He had been there for her when he fiancée died, and she would be there for him now.

But God, she wanted to punch his stupid face off.

Sally gripped the case file tightly and shoved it into her bag, turning her face away from him. "I'm going to lunch now," she said softly, coolly. Her words were laced with frozen steel, and she hoped each of them stabbed Hal deeply. "Perhaps you will be ready to listen to what I have to say by the time I get back." She threw her coat over her shoulders, and walked to the door. The blood drained out of Hal's face, turning it an ashy grey.

"Sally, I didn't mean it," he said weakly. She looked at him pityingly. Now that all of his rage had dissipated, he looked pathetic, like a deflated balloon. She couldn't help but feel bad for him. She also couldn't help to imagine shooting him in the face,

"Oh, but you did," she said as she trudged out of the room. She shut the door behind her quietly, ignoring the impulse to slam it. When she reached the stairwell, which was fairly empty, she let out a scream of frustration. _How are we going to take down the Boogie Man_, she thought pessimistically, _if we can't even agree with ourselves?_


	3. Speak Easy

***Author's Notes*: Greetings, and welcome to the third chapter of The Darkest Nightmare. Here, the narration will switch to third person omniscient! Isn't that lovely, folks? Also introducing Deus ex Machina! And, as an extra bonus, we're welcoming Jack Skellington to the party! Thank you all for your lovely reviews! I really appreciate them. *Disclaimer* I do not own TNBC, obviously. That said, please read, review, and enjoy. Thank you for your time!**

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The Darkest Nightmare

Chapter 3: Speak Easy

Sally rested her forehead on the slightly sticky counter of the diner. Her headache had not receded, despite the numerous aspirin tablets she had taken. Instead, she felt as if the world had suddenly been magnified. She noticed everything, and everything irritated her. The lunchtime chatter of the diner's patrons was loud, obnoxious, and meaningless. The smell of fried food was making her nauseous. _They didn't even have good coffee, _she thought, glaring angrily at her empty cup. Normally, she wouldn't have cared. Normally, she would have choked down the food, thankful that it was cheap and the portions were generous. Normally, she would have rushed straight back to the station, eager to tell Hal her brilliant new idea about the case.

But she didn't have any ideas, and she didn't want to talk to Hal. So she had stayed at the disgusting little diner much longer than she had intended, silently fuming. That was where Jack Skellington found her, hunched over on her stool, rocking back and forth with an evil look upon her face, almost as if she was in the middle of cursing someone. He smiled broadly at this, pleased to see her. Her strange little habits almost always managed to amuse him.

"Bad day, Detective?" he asked in a voice that sounded like it had been made out of velvet. He repressed a chuckle when she whirled around to stare at him, looking almost like a startled cat. When she recognized him, her features settled into one of vague apprehensiveness.

"Jack," she said hesitatingly. "Er. Hello. Well. Um. Yes." She said, quickly glancing around the diner, checking to make sure that no one was paying attention to them. It wouldn't do for a police officer to be seen talking to a…speakeasy singer. The whole situation reeked of impropriety, of…of…criminality. It didn't matter how long they had been friends; Jack Skellington was walking the fine blue line between right and wrong. She shook her head mournfully. _His mother would die of shame if she saw him now, _she thought. _He's so skinny, so lanky, so _perfect_._ She flushed when she thought this, but she knew what her feelings for him were. What they had developed into during the past year. So what if he was a criminal? At the very least she could admire him from afar. But it was hard to do that when he was standing three feet away from her, impeccably dressed and grinning at her in a way that made her feel woozy.

"Hello, Sally?" asked Jack, a tad bit concerned. He knew that Sally had a tendency to daydream, but now she had a rather odd look upon her face. She quickly snapped back to attention, looking at him with wide eyes.

"What?" she asked. "What did you say?" Jack winced slightly as he noticed the heavy bags under her eyes, and her jittery, almost manic movements. Clearly, the woman needed a good night's rest.

"I asked if you were alright, Sally. Obviously not," he said, clearing his throat. Her eyes narrowed.

"I'm _fine_, Jack. Just a bit of…problems at work," she said, yawning. "Hal's had a bit of trouble dealing with our new case. We had an argument."

Jack harrumphed, which made Sally smile. She knew how much the skeleton man disliked her partner. "Nothing good ever comes from being a pigheaded smart ass," he would always say about Hal. She would then laugh at this, because Hal would always say the same thing about him. He didn't say it this time, but she knew that he was thinking it. Suddenly he turned to her, and asked:

"How's your father? Has he been giving you a hard time?"

Sally grimaced at this, thinking back to this morning's incident. The whole thing seemed so ridiculous now. So… unimportant, when compared to the prospect of certain death. She shrugged. "No worse than usual. What about your mother?"

He waved the question aside with a flick of his long, bony hand. "She's fine, fine. She's not happy if she's not complaining about _something_. Oh, Jack!" he said, mimicking her deep, throaty voice. "Why can't you be like your older brother? You have brought shame upon this family! What would your father think, if he were alive to see you? Oh, the horror!" He shook his head. "At least she's staying with Simon now. She can bother_ him_."

Sally laughed.

"Well that's good." She said. She felt better, talking to him. He always found a way to lift her spirits. "How are things at the…" she dropped her voice down to whisper. "_Speakeasy?"_

"Wonderful. Not a raid in months," he said, grinning at her. His smile dropped before he spoke again. "But the Boogie Man's Boys have been lurking around, more than usual. The boss thinks that they're… trying to get new recruits."

Sally's jaw dropped. _What were the odds?_ She thought, and then chided herself for being naïve. _It's a trap, most likely. But maybe I'll get lucky. It's happened before. _

"Well, isn't that serendipitous!" she said, forcing her tone to be jocular. "Here I am, looking for, at this very moment, a job as a bootlegger! I was wondering," she said, as she placed hand on his arm, "Whether you could enquire about getting me and my friend a _job._" She said, under her breath. Jack stared at her in shock, wondering if his friend had finally lost it.

"Are you insane?" he half-shrieked, half whispered. "Do you have a death wish, Sally? You can't do this. I…won't allow you to do this! I don't care what kind of crazy scheme you're up to, this is a trap!"

"Most likely," Sally said calmly, digging her fingernails into his forearm. "But it's my best shot. I have a job to do, and this is, unfortunately, the best way to do it. I want you to sniff it out for me. If it seems shady, then tell me. If not, well…" she said smiling. "Put in a good word with Lock for me, okay?" Jack hesitated for a moment, taking in his friend's determined expression on her worn face. He sighed. He knew Sally too well. She was like a dog with a bone. Even if he didn't agree to this, she would find a way to do it anyways. _Isn't it better,_ said a small voice at the back of his head. _If you help her? This way, she won't get killed. At least not right away…_ Jack silenced the voice before it could go any further.

"I'll help you," he said uneasily, prying her fingers off of his arm. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

She smiled gratefully, glad that he had agreed. If he hadn't, she would have concocted an elaborate plan involving a dramatic shoot-out and a large bowl of soup. "Thanks," she said, standing up and placing some money on the table. "Call me when you get some news." She gave him an awkward little wave as she walked out of the diner. She felt more optimistic than she had been all day as she walked down the street towards the police station. Maybe she would get lucky. Maybe everything would pan out.

_Yes, and maybe Father will start being nice to me_, she thought pessimistically. It was useless to hope. She just could not afford it. _Who am I kidding? _She thought gloomily, _I've never been lucky in my entire life. _


	4. Witchcraft

***Author's Notes*: The alternative title of this chapter is Detective Hal Owens and his Incredible Mood Swings! Welcome to Chapter Four! In this chapter, we get a glance into our grumpy detective's innermost thoughts. Kind of. Also, Sally is revealed to be a Prince-type for all of you manga readers/anime watchers out there. *Advisory* Be aware, readers, that I've decided to incorporate some "extras" into this story. These include: Sally's Theme Song, and a "soundtrack" for the story. Listen to the soundtrack as you read, and imagine that you're watching a REAL MOVIE! (Actually, it will probably fit better with some of the later chapters, so...yeah.) Head on over to my profile to listen to some cool music! Character art, profiles, and secret origins will eventually appear there, so keep your eyes peeled. (Recommendations for music are also gladly appreciated.) Thanks to the people who reviewed the previous chapters. (You know who you are... *winks suggestively*) If you like/hate the story, review it! They are appreciated! That said, I do not own anything, save for Hal Owens, a couple of extras, and this story plot! Read on, dear internet wanderers, and enjoy!**

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The Darkest Nightmare

Chapter 4: Witchcraft

Hal swayed somewhat drunkenly at his desk, feeling slightly buzzed from the after effects of a healing spell. None of his bones were broken, he was not bruised, and he was certainly not bleeding. Metaphorically, maybe. So there was no need for him to cast the spell, and yet…he had done so anyways. Why? That was the question he was constantly asking himself, day after day, after day. He still did not know the answer.

Perhaps it was the feeling of power that came with the rush of magic. Yes, perhaps that _was _it. To be in control, to be the absolute master of _something_, no matter how useless that something was. Magic was a deep and intoxicating; it took you away, and made you forget…everything. No more pain, no more happiness, no more anything. Sheer oblivion. Even if Hal wanted to rid himself of its influence, he couldn't. Its hold over him was too strong. Hal was a witch, and magic ran deep through his bones. To deny that fact felt like he was twisting a knife into his chest.

It was painful, of course. His addiction. And it was destroying his life. Every second he was not feeding it, he felt…itchy and irritated. Like a million insects were crawling over his body, and then biting him, constantly reminding him that he needed to cast just one more spell. It affected his mood, too. He snapped at everyone these days, even his own daughter. People could only put up with so much, and he had suddenly found himself with fewer friends than he'd had a year ago. In his current state of mind, he couldn't say that he missed them.

The one person who he _would _miss was Sally. If she ever left him, he knew he was finished. Sally, though awkward and taciturn and dowdy, was a kind and (he had always thought a tad bit romantically) noble person. She kept him going, with all of her vaguely youthful energy and sarcasm. She was almost like a knight or a prince in a fairy tale, often unnamed, but always coming in to save the day. She had been through a lot of hardships, and was almost never thanked, but he was positive that her happy ending would come. One day. Some time. Eventually.

Hal, on the other hand, would be alone until the end of time. Eventually, everyone got sick of him, and left. _Even Mara didn't stick around for long,_ he thought pessimistically. _Four years, at most._ He froze upright in his chair. He had let his mind wander into a forbidden area. He had accidentally thought about his wife. Thinking about Mara was a bad idea, because it always, without fail, made him cry. That was why, when Sally walked in, she found him sobbing violently into his paperwork. He sobbed even harder when he saw the look of stark disappointment on her face. She turned her eyes heavenward, and stalked over to him. This was not the first time that she had found Hal like this, and it certainly would not be the last. She pulled out the handkerchief that was specifically designated for Hal from her pocket and handed it to him.

"Here," she said coolly, pushing aside the soggy pile on his desk that had once been paper. She grimaced at the sight of all three of his dripping eyes, and turned away to give him some privacy. There was nothing that could destroy her enthusiasm faster than the tragic visage of her magic-addled partner. Hal quickly wiped his face off, and stared blearily at the back of his partner's head. Her up-do had become undone, and from the slump of her shoulders, he could tell that she was tired. _She doesn't deserve this, _he thought gloomily. _She doesn't deserve to be saddled with me._

"I'm sorry, Sally," he said quietly. "I'm sorry I snapped at you, and I'm sorry that you have to put up with this." She turned around and looked at him sympathetically. Much as they argued, and for all of his faults, she had to admit that she loved Hal. That was why it pained her so deeply to see him like this: a broken, pathetic mess. When she had first met him, he had been an intelligent, sharp-witted man who did not suffer fools gladly. But when Mara, his wife, had left him, he had, for lack of a better term, lost his will to live. Over the course of the last year, he had eroded into the shadow of the man he had once been. Of course she would forgive him. He was her best friend.

But that didn't mean she had to be easy on him.

"Apology accepted," she said stiffly. She walked over and awkwardly patted him on the back. "So, are you ready to listen to me now?"

He nodded, slowly. He still wasn't too keen on the idea of hunting down the Boogie Man. Who wouldn't be? Nobody was keen on the idea of dying a horribly drawn out and painful death.

Sally took a deep breath and began, praying that Hal wouldn't object to much to her admittedly outlandish plan. "Well, after our little_ spat_, I went down to Edgar's, you know, the diner? Anyways, while I was there I ran into Jack Skellington, and he said that Oogie Boogie's boys had been hanging around his speakeasy." She paused for a second, glancing at Hal out of the corner of her eye, trying to gauge his reaction. His lip was curling, never a good sign. She plunged onwards. "He said that they're…recruiting. I told him to check it out. It might just be our way in."

"Or, it might be nothing," Hal said, shrugging off her arm. "It might be a trap. And how _is_ our Mr. Skellington anyways? I haven't seen him since the last time we raided The Raven." He looked at her knowingly, making her blush. She suddenly remembered that Hal was indeed aware of her painfully obvious, unrequited crush on Jack.

She ignored the question with a shake of her head. Now was no time to be dwelling on a ridiculous infatuation. They had a criminal to take down."It's our only option," she said forcefully, gazing into his reddened eyes. They held the stare for several moments, before Hal grudgingly looked away.

"All right," he said with a heavy sigh. "You win this time, Finklestein. We'll see if this whole "recruitment" situation pans out. But if it doesn't," he said warningly. "We'll do this _my_ way." Sally snorted. She couldn't believe that Hal had thought of a solution before she had, especially not in his condition.

"And which way would that be?" she asked sardonically. She knew he didn't have an answer. He couldn't have. Hal shrugged, and grinned up at her, in the way that she knew so well. When she saw that smile, she knew that everything would be all right. For now.

"I don't know," he said softly. "But it's always good to have a plan B, isn't it Sally?'


	5. Me and the Devil Blues

***Author's Note* Welcome to Chapter Five! Oh, we do hope you'll enjoy your stay. In this chapter we meet everyone's favorite Trick-or-Treater, Lock DeVille! ( I apologize if he seems somewhat OOC, but hey! We all act dumb around pretty people!) As well as this, introducing the The Raven, and it's proprietress, Miss Ullalume Lee. (That's pronounced YOU-la-loom) Ullalume Lee is all mine, mine, mine! An original character from Hal's Universe! A fabulous ghost and a former burlesque dancer, her hobbies are making money and fools out of men. Here's an interesting fact: She's the only woman who's ever won Oogie Boogie's respect. And that's saying something! Anyways, I'd like to give a shoutout to VlightPhase, who was the _only_ person *glares menacingly at the readers* who gave me a review! Thank you, friend! Your words are always encouraging! Guys, come on. Review. It's easy, and my writing won't get any better unless I get some feedback. Also I did (a minimal) amount of research on this story, so I'd appreciate it if you would tell me what you think. *Disclaimer* I don't own nothing. That said, thank you for your brainspace. I now encourage you to read, REVIEW, and enjoy. Thanks. **

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The Darkest Nightmare

Chapter Five: Me and the Devil Blues

Ever since he had been a little boy, Jack Skellington had always had the _uncanny _ability to be earshot of a conversation he was not supposed to be hearing. Take now, for instance. Here he was, backstage at The Raven Nightclub and Speakeasy, preparing for the Tuesday evening show, when who should happen to walk in, but Mr. Lock DeVille, Oogie Boogie's right hand man, looking as slick and oily as last week's mackerel. Jack sharply drew in a breath, and ducked behind the curtain. Even though The Raven relied on Oogie Boogie and his boys to get them their blood supply, that didn't mean that Jack had to talk to them.

Lock stood impatiently for a few moments, looking absolutely ridiculous in a flashy, baggy red suit, pointed tail thrashing behind him. Jack scoffed silently at the man's obvious youth. His horns hadn't even come in yet; he could stand to wait.

"Hey! Boss Lady!" he called, irritation creeping into his voice. "Look, I know you're here, so you might as well come out now!" His voice cracked on the word "here", and Jack shook his head. Why Oogie Boogie had decided to choose someone who was practically a child to be his right hand man was, and always would be, a mystery to him. A few seconds passed until the soft pattering sound of "The Boss Lady's" feet signaled her arrival. _So she decided to be corporeal for this exchange, _Jack thought amusedly. _Interesting._

"Why, Lock, honey!" said Miss Ullalume Lee, proprietress and manager of the nightclub. She spoke to him sweetly, like he was simply dropping in for a friendly visit, instead of coming to shake her down for "protection". "How are you? You haven't been around here for…hmm…let me think," Here her voice dropped to a somewhat menacing growl. "Two weeks. What does the Boogie Man want _now_, hmm?"

Lock stammered, blushing, which made Jack smirk. Miss Lee tended to have that effect on people, especially men. She was a stunning woman, a ghost, with ample curves and beautiful dark brown skin. Many poems (ranging from dreadful to desperate) had been written to her impenetrable black eyes. But on top of that, she was shrewd business woman and a clever performer. By the age of 26, she'd been able to garner a small fortune. And now, five years later, she was the richest woman in Scarlem. She wasn't afraid of anything or anyone, _especially_ not Oogie Boogie. It was one of the many things Jack admired about her. She didn't take anything from anybody.

"Sit down, honey, sit down!" she said cheerfully, dispelling the previously tense mood. She gestured to a chair, but when Lock hesitated, she practically forced him into it. "There! Nice and comfy, aren't we? Travis?" she called to a nearby ghostly waiter. "Travis, get this boy some tarantula juice. He looks simply parched! The good stuff, not the watered down coffin varnish." When she saw the alarmed look upon the young devil's face, she smiled reassuringly. "Just a figure of speech, dear, just a figure of speech."

"Coming right up, ma'am," said the waiter, and briskly floated off towards the kitchen.

Ullalume sighed impatiently. "Oh, what this Prohibition is doing to my business! First the blood, and then the booze! It makes you wonder what this world is coming to, doesn't it honey?" Lock was so confused and flustered he could only nod along with her somewhat dazedly. She turned to him, a suddenly serious look upon her face. "Now how is my old friend, anyways? He got my shipment in, right? It is _so_ nice of him to let little old me have such a wonderful place like this to myself, anyways. Tell him thank you for me, next time you see him, alright honey?"

Lock coughed, face red. "I…I will. Now, about your payment-" At that moment, Travis came, bearing a bottle of what Jack surmised was "the good stuff" and two glasses.

"Your drinks, ma'am," Travis said, expertly cutting the devil off. Ullalume smiled gratefully at him.

"Thank you kindly, Travis. Travis is just the best, isn't he?" she said somewhat absentmindedly as she turned towards Lock. "So, what did you want to talk to me about again, honey? "

Lock gaped like a fish for about a minute before he realized that he had indeed come for another reason that had absolutely nothing to do with staring at Ullalume Lee. He struggled to put an intimidating expression, but came up short. In the end he only managed to look painfully sheepish.

"I…well…ahem." He began awkwardly. "Miss Lee-"

Ullalume cut him off with a wave of her ghostly hand. "Call me Ullalume, honey. Save that formality for the court."

"Right…uh… Ulla-Ullalume… Your….Your payments…Your payments! You're late on your payments! For your protection! And uh…you know what happens when you don't pay…" he trailed off, realizing how pathetic he sounded. Ullalume leaned over and patted his knee sympathetically.

"Oh, honey I know. I know. We've both been down that road before, haven't we?" Here she bit her bottom lip and widened her eyes _just so_. Jack clasped a hand to his mouth, holding in his fierce desire to laugh. _Damn, she was good._ She had the little fop exactly where she wanted him. As expected of the most powerful ghost in Halloween Town. "Couldn't you extend my time, for just a little bit? Just a little? Besides," she murmured, leaning in, and fluttering her eyelashes. "I bet I could find all _sorts_ of interesting ways to pay you."

Lock's face was completely red now, clashing with both his suit and his hair. He was practically drooling. Jack couldn't hold it in any longer. This little display of theirs was just too funny. His low, pleasant, albeit somewhat menacing laugh rang out through the nightclub. Lock jerked away from Ullalume, and turned to stare at Jack as he walked out from behind the curtain. Jack gave the devil a cheeky little wave, and laughed again at the expression on the poor devil's face.

"Skellington!" Lock yelped, face suddenly paling to a chalky-white. "How long have you been there?"

Jack gave him wide, fake smile, barely concealing his distaste for the gangster and his flashy, ridiculous suit. _Honestly._ It was 1927, though that didn't mean the youth had to wander about looking like ragamuffins.

"Long enough, Mr. DeVille, long enough. Ah…nice suit, by the way. And do my ears deceive me, or are you coming to collect our payment? I thought we had another week, at the very least."

Ullalume looked up at Jack amusedly. They loved working together to intimidate Oogie's gangsters. It was one of their favorite joint hobbies. "We do indeed, Jack! Mr. DeVille and I had just finished settling it, hadn't we, Mr. DeVille?" She said, giving Lock a saccharine smile.

Lock's yellow eyes flicked around the interior, desperately looking for a way out. "Yes we…wait, what?" he asked bewilderedly, turning his gaze back to the pair of them, who were grinning at him in a mildly disconcerting manner. Jack jumped off the edge of the stage, and strode over to them.

"We…will…pay…you…in…one…week…" he said slowly, as if Lock was a very small, not very bright child. _Which he basically was,_ Jack thought condescendingly. Lock just stared at him, seemingly hypnotized by his hollow eye sockets.

"O…okay…" The devil said weakly. "I'll give you a week." He slowly got up, suddenly aware of his loss of face at the hands of two beautiful nightclub performers.

"Oh, and tell the Boogie Man I have two new recruits for him, if he's interested. A gun moll and a witch, if he needs them," Jack called to Lock as the devil trudged to the front door. He nodded blearily.

"Will…do…" he sighed as he opened the door and stepped into the soft glow of the afternoon. It shut with a heavy _thud_.

Ullalume turned to Jack, an elegant brow raised.

"Good work, Mr. Skellington. Job well done. But I'd like to know who the hell got you mad enough to be put on your bad list?" she asked sharply. "I knew you were a sadist, but I didn't know you liked sending people to their deaths."

Jack sighed. _Crap._ Now he would have to explain this whole mess to Miss Lee, something he really, really didn't look forward to.

"First off, I'm not a sadist. You caught me at a bad time. And besides, those spiders were asking for it. Secondly," he continued, "I'm not sending anyone to their deaths. You know Sally Finklestein, right?" he asked, earnestly hoping that she would go along with it. The look on her face told him that she didn't, but she looked willing to bite. "Anyways. She's a cop, and she's my friend, aaaand she needs my help for a case. _A very important case,_ if you get my meaning. She and her partner need to go undercover, and I thought, since the crime bosses hang out here all the time anyways, why don't we make The Raven their base?"

Ullalume just glared at him.

"Are you out of your damned mind?" she asked stonily. "Jack, listen. I don't have much tolerance for those pigs, even the ones we employ to keep us informed. Why, in God's name, would I allow two dicks to poke their grubby little noses around my club? Hell, I don't even let Oogie Boogie do that, and he's our supplier!"

Jack took a deep breath. He hated asking for favors, but Sally was worth it.

"Miss Lee, I really need you to help me. This cop…isn't just your average cop… She's …she's pretty much nigh incorruptible, and if I don't help her, she's just going to do it by herself anyways. And then she's going to get killed, and if she dies…" Jack sighed. Sally had been his best friend, ever since they had worked in the shirtwaist factory together. Hell, they had even grown up in the same tenement building. "It… I don't want her to die, do you understand? She's very important to me. If you could just help me keep her safe, I would owe you, so, so much."

Ullalume was looking at Jack with a very strange expression on her face, something almost akin to pity. "Alright, Jack. If this girl really means that much to you. But I'm cutting your pay in half for the next two months."

"That's fine, ma'am." He said softly. He didn't care. Half of his pay would be plenty, thanks to his ingrained frugality. Her shoulders slumped, disappointed that her ploy had not worked, and she started to transform, turning into a brilliant ball of floating white light.

"I hope to God you know what you're doing, Jack," she sighed, before zooming away. Jack watched miserably as she phased through her office door, nothing more now than a pinprick of light. _I hope I do too,_ he thought tiredly. _I hope I do too._


End file.
